Blurgh...

There is nothing that I hate more in this world than going to the dentist.  It's only compounded by the fact that mine is a not nice lady who thinks I'm a big old ninny because she terrifies me.  It's not fun and it's never pleasant.  However, I secretly exacted my revenge today by sneaking out after she told me to make an appointment at the front desk for a cleaning.  I may or may not make that appointment (I'd need some serious Xanax first) but I am most definitely not making it with her. 

I'm not sure why this issue exists or where it came from but I know it's not going away.  I feel ridiculous, mind you.  But if anything, it's only getting worst.  Someone at work was describing a particularly unpleasant visit the other day and I had to physically leave the room.  It's pathological and hard-wired and if I could stop I would but it's impossible to.  Thank goodness it's over for now and I can go back to ignoring it and crazy dentist dictator lady again.  

I suppose things could be worse.  This will be the only time you'll ever hear me say this in a negative light - I could be in London right now while this is going on.  I was there when they did this 9 years ago and I know exactly what it does to the city.  I only had to put up with it for a day before going home and that was enough to put me over the edge.  Poor London! Hope they're back on track(s) again soon!

Freaking Out

Everyone has that one thing that makes their hair stand on end; that makes a usually (semi) calm person freak out like a nutter.  For me, that's the dentist.  I positively, absolutely HATE going to the dentist.  I can't watch anything having to do with the dentist on any show or movie.  I can't listen to people talk about it.  The very mention of it causes my heart to race and my stomach to flip.

All of this is to say, I have to go tomorrow to have a cavity filled and I'm completely terrified! I know it's crazy.  I know it makes me sound like a big old ninny.  But that's the thing, I can't switch it off.  No one seems to get it.  I'd very much not like to shake and tear up and get physically ill at the very sight of a DDS but I can't.  

So it's off to bed now, in hopes of turning off the little man inside my head that's saying "run away now!".  Wish me luck, though this will most likely be our last meeting - If the dentist doesn't kill me, the coronary I give myself may...